


sweetly, lover

by celestialfics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Canon Timeline, M/M, Relationship Study, Slow Build, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 12,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialfics/pseuds/celestialfics
Summary: It’s little by little, bit by bit that Tsukishima Kei finds himself in love with Yamaguchi Tadashi.





	1. beginning

**Author's Note:**

> so i decided for the new year that i would do a [challenge](http://todoroukis.tumblr.com/post/155140739021/genimhaled-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) to write every day !  
> i didn't originally think that all the drabbles would be connected, but since i'm extra, i decided to make this a 30 mini-chaptered fic. i'll really try my best to update daily, and i hope you'll enjoy! <3  
> title from "symptoms" by atlas genius !

The park is almost secluded; it’s surrounded on three sides by forest. The fourth side is a little dirt road tread by foot or bicycle, and it runs parallel to the actual street that lies further away. Being early spring, wildflowers poke up through the grass that surrounds the sandy playing area.

Kei had agreed to meet with Yamaguchi at this park, since it sits almost perfectly in the middle of their houses. But he’s running late, because he and his brother lost track of time while hitting a volleyball back and forth. (More accurately, his brother tossed the ball to him and his receive went haywire.) And so, Kei’s mother had packed him a lunch and sent him quickly on his way to the park to meet with Yamaguchi, a light smile painting her face.

He’s not extremely late, only about fifteen minutes. He just hopes, as he walks the route to the park, that Yamaguchi doesn’t think he’s been ditched. That wouldn’t pave the road to friendship very well, and both Kei’s mother and brother have been adamant about Kei making friends. (Yamaguchi’s the only person he’s been inclined to so far, so his family is really pushing this.)

Kei’s shoes scuff on the dirt road leading to the park; his mother will probably scold him for getting dust all over them, but they’re hand-me-downs, anyway.

Yamaguchi’s alone at the park when Kei finally sees him. He’s sitting on the edge of the grass, tying dandelion stems together in his lap. Kei resists calling out to him, just approaches and sits down next to him.

“Oh, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi greets, dropping the flowers down onto the ground next to him. Kei involuntarily flushes at the nickname—he’s still not used to it.

“Hey,” he responds, pressing his palms against the ground behind him and leaning back. The grass squishes underneath his fingers, though some pokes out from the spaces between.

And when Yamaguchi smiles at him, his eyes closing because of the broadness of it, Kei thinks that even if his family weren’t encouraging him so much make friends, he’d still want to be here now with Yamaguchi.

That’s something, surely.


	2. accusation

Yamaguchi was there when it happened—when Kei looked out across the volleyball court and saw his brother sitting in the cheering section, rather than standing tall, as he said he would be, as the ace on the court. Yamaguchi had watched as Kei froze up in eye-contact with his brother, and he’d watched as they both fell apart.

And Yamaguchi is still here now, as the match has just come to a close and Kei’s brother still hasn’t come to face Kei himself. They’re standing just outside the building, and Yamaguchi pulls his blue hoodie closer to himself at the slight chill of the wind.

He doesn’t try to justify any of Kei’s brother’s actions or call them out, as he hardly says a word. Kei appreciates it.

But he’s really not sure what they’re out here waiting for. Kei doesn’t particularly want to see his brother right now, though he’s bound to come out of the building’s doors at any moment.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi speaks up, probably reading Kei’s broken expression. He’s pulling at the bottom hem of his hoodie. “I’m really sorry about what happened.” Before Kei can even formulate a response, Yamaguchi continues, “I guess I don’t really know the entire story, but do you want to go get ice cream?”

Kei’s relieved for the excuse to change the subject and to get away before his brother sees him and stumbles through his words of apology.

“My mom gave me some money before I left, so I have enough for both of us. Only if you want!” Yamaguchi’s making some weird panicked gestures with his hands that have no meanings, as he often does, but somehow it makes Kei feel just a little bit better.

“Yeah,” Kei responds, shoving his hands into the pockets of his red puffy vest.

And even if their little excursion doesn’t take Kei’s mind off of the hurt he feels in his heart for very long, he still appreciates Yamaguchi’s attempt to cheer him up. Though, Kei’s not even sure that’s what this _is_ , as he’s sitting across from a Yamaguchi with blue-stained lips and sticky hands. It’s probably _not_ an attempt to cheer him up, he thinks. It’s just an attempt to make him feel a little more normal.

And so, he appreciates it—appreciates _Yamaguchi_ even more.


	3. restless

“Your birthday’s next week, isn’t it, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi speaks in a soft, late-night voice from where he lies down on the futon spread out upon Kei’s floor.

“Mhm,” Kei hums in response, turning onto his side and pulling his blanket up over his shoulder. He strains his eyes to see Yamaguchi, but it’s dark and he’s not wearing his glasses, so there’s really no chance.

“ _Thirteen_ ,” Yamaguchi says, as though he’s testing the number on his tongue. “That’s pretty old, Tsukki! You’re going to be a _teenager_.”

“You will be too,” Kei replies, letting his eyes flutter closed. He basks in the comfortable heat of his blanket, pulling it up even further, to his chin.

“Well, sure. In almost two months. Your birthday is a lot closer.”

Kei again hums his acknowledgment, and a soft silence falls over the room. Yamaguchi rustles around on the futon every so often.

It’s a few minutes before either of them speak again; Kei’s just starting to drift off to sleep when Yamaguchi sits up on the futon and turns towards Kei’s bed.

“Tsukki?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his chin on the edge of Kei’s bed.

“Hmm?” Kei responds, bleary. He just barely opens one eye to peer into the darkness in front of him, where he knows Yamaguchi sits.

“Can’t sleep,” Yamaguchi says. Kei imagines the pout on his face that he knows is there.

“Do you need another blanket?” Kei asks, and he opens his other eye to no avail, as he still can’t see. “Or pillow?”

“Ah, no, that’s all fine,” Yamaguchi insists, slinking back down onto the futon. “I just can’t sleep.”

“Oh,” Kei breathes, turning over to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling (which he can’t actually see).

Yamaguchi hesitates to speak again, staying quiet. Kei doesn’t prod, but his eyes drift closed again. The only sound in the room is the wind pressing against the glass pane of Kei’s window and the ticks of an analog clock over on Kei’s bookshelf.

“Can I tell you a story?” Yamaguchi asks after a few of the ticks.

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Yamaguchi pauses a moment, as if thinking.

He starts off on a story about a beetle he’d found in his backyard last week (he describes said beetle with painstaking detail), and how he wanted to put it into a jar to ' _show Tsukki_.' Kei cringes at the idea and is secretly glad that Yamaguchi had found it to be of better taste not to, since Kei’s not especially fond of bugs.

And though he’s sure that the story continues on after this point, Yamaguchi’s voice gets slower and quieter as he speaks, as if he’s talking himself to sleep. Which, Kei realizes, he _is_ , and Kei can’t quite think of anything that would be more _Yamaguchi_ of him. Yamaguchi’s words soon fade to nothing, and they both drift off to sleep.


	4. snowflake

Middle school volleyball practice isn’t the toughest thing in the world, so that’s mostly why Kei sticks with it, despite his utter lack of motivation. Still though, with his minimal effort, Kei’s receives are improving at a faster rate than Yamaguchi’s. Yamaguchi says he doesn’t mind that he isn’t as good or that he can’t seem to get the ball to go where he wants it to, but they’ve been friends for long enough now that Kei can read right through it. He just doesn’t know what to say to reassure Yamaguchi, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

Yamaguchi’s forearms are dark cherry red as he changes back into his school uniform, tugging the shirt collar over his head. Some of his hair sticks out from the static charge of the shirt. Kei tears his gaze away, pursing his lips and changing his own clothes. He wishes he had something to say to Yamaguchi so that he’d know the effort he’s putting into the sport isn’t going unnoticed, but nothing he thinks of isn’t too embarrassing to say aloud.

“Ready to go?” Yamaguchi asks a few moments later, wrapping his orange scarf around his neck. The scarf clashes with his green gloves, but he certainly doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” Kei responds, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. He’d forgotten his own gloves, so his pockets were their substitute.

The snow outside is light, though, and the temperature is, if anything, only moderately cold. It’s only the second snowfall of the year.

“Do you like snow?” Kei finds himself asking as they walk outside together, their volleyball bags in tow.

Yamaguchi looks up at him at the question, and he contemplates this for a moment. “I think it’s pretty,” he says, and his gaze shifts to a particular snowflake that drifts lazily down through the air. He outstretches his hand and lets the snowflake land on it, melting after only a few moments.

Kei agrees, watching as the snow collects in Yamaguchi’s brunet hair. Occasionally, a flake lands on Yamaguchi’s face, a stark contrast to his deeper complexion and freckles, and then melts to nothing.

It’s tempting to take a picture, but Kei knows that the low resolution camera on the flip phone that he was gifted for his thirteenth birthday won’t do the snowflakes or Yamaguchi any justice. And so, the best he can do is commit the scene to memory.


	5. haze

Kei is being nudged. It’s only gentle nudging, but enough to wake him from his slumber.

“What is it?” Kei mumbles as he awakens, blinking his eyes into the dim room to see Yamaguchi perched just over him.

“You don’t have to get up if you don’t want,” Yamaguchi prefaces, and continues, “but the sunrise is really pretty.”

“What time is it?” Kei asks in response, sitting up slightly and reaching for his glasses that sit on the stand beside his bed.

“Six o’clock, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi chirps his answer, pulling away from his friend and stepping over the futon that he’d slept on the night before. He stands eagerly at Kei’s bedroom door.

Kei sits up fully on his bed before throwing the blankets off of him and swinging his legs off of the side to press his feet to the floor.

“Why did you wake up?” he inquires, pushing his glasses up his forehead for a moment to rub at his eyes. He knows that Yamaguchi usually sleeps in when he gets the chance (which is beside the fact that he also _falls asleep_ at any chance he gets), so this is somewhat peculiar.

Yamaguchi shrugs. “I just woke up a little bit, but I saw that the light coming from the window was pink, so I wanted to check it out. It’s really pretty, so I thought you might want to see it, too.”

Kei nods, actually standing from the bed at this point. Yamaguchi leads him through the hallways of his own house, their bare feet padding along the wooden floors. Otherwise, they don’t make a sound, not wanting to wake any of Kei’s family.

Yamaguchi swings open the back door of the house and steps outside, beckoning Kei to follow him. Kei hesitates, because it’s March and in March the temperature doesn’t quite permit bare feet and thin sleep shirts. But he follows after a moment anyway, shivering as he steps out onto the chilled ground.

The sunrise _is_ nice though; it paints the sky with vibrant pink and orange streaks, and the clouds that sweep overhead look like pink vanilla candy floss—not to mention that the orange light cast over them shades nicely on Yamaguchi’s skin. A morning haze rests over the tops of the houses in the distance, reflecting the colors of the sunrise.

“Wow,” Yamaguchi breathes from beside him, watching a cloud float slowly above them. His gaze flickers over to Kei, and his face lights up with a smile. “I can see the reflection in your glasses,” he says, and he takes a step closer. Kei’s breath catches in his throat.

“It’s nice,” he says, blinking and diverting his eyes back to the sky. Only for a second, he forgets about how his feet are freezing into the ground.

Still, though, the cold continues to seep into his skin and when he can no longer feel his toes, Kei suggests they head back inside. Yamaguchi obliges after a moment more of looking at the sunrise reflected in Kei’s glasses, and Kei really can’t help how his face heats up.

(Maybe all the warmth from his feet had flooded to his face, he reasons. But that definitely wasn’t the reason, and some part of him knows it.)


	6. flame

Seasons pass quickly when Kei’s young; the snow melts to ensure the growth of the grass and the grass cracks under the heat of the beating sun. Summer has come much too swiftly.

As Kei and Yamaguchi had started their second year of middle school in the spring, they were by now well acquainted with the upperclassmen on their volleyball team. Acquainted enough, in fact, to be invited to a bonfire.

It’s not _bad_ , per se, but there are things that Kei would rather be doing, e.g. reading about sharks or sleeping. Yamaguchi looks sleepy, too, actually, with his eyes fixated on the fire as it flickers and as sparks swirl up towards the sky. They’ve been here for a few hours now, so he thinks the tiredness is warranted.

Someone’s telling a story, likely something meant to be scary, but Kei can’t find it in him to pay attention or get invested. It’s just—Yamaguchi’s head is bobbing, his eyes drooping before he blinks hard and opens them back up. (It’s to no avail, though, as the pattern repeats again only moments later.)

They’re probably sitting a little too close together, Kei notices as he scans the distance between the other boys that sit on wooden benches around the fire. But regardless of the fact that it’s summer, after the sun sets the air starts to cool, and Yamaguchi is warm pressed up against Kei’s side. So, Kei doesn’t push him off.

Tadashi’s head lulls to the side after a few more minutes of fighting off his drowsiness, falling to rest on Kei’s shoulder. One of their teammates raises an eyebrow at Kei when he sees this, and all he can think to do in response is shrug with the opposite shoulder.

Kei turns his head to look at Yamaguchi, and his brunet hair rubs against Kei’s cheek. The warm lighting of the fire makes him look soft and luminous, and the smattering of freckles on his face resemble a deep gold. Kei shakes his head and looks away.

No one else around them really seems to mind how closely they sit, but even if they did mind, Kei knows he wouldn’t care.


	7. formal

Kei doesn’t like it when people cry. It’s not because he feels sad, or because he pities them; he just finds it embarrassing, like tripping and falling down in front of people.

It’s definitely something to do with vulnerability—Kei despises being vulnerable. He flashes back to when Yamaguchi and that other kid from his class had watched him discover the truth about his brother at that volleyball match, and he shivers just thinking about it. To be vulnerable is not something to which Kei aspires. To him, that’s like aspiring to fall down the stairs while all of his classmates watch.

Yamaguchi doesn’t think the same way, though.

They’ve just lost the last volleyball game of their middle school career, and they’re out of the tournament after the first game. Yamaguchi’s crying, for what Kei’s sure is a multitude of reasons. Added to the fact that they’re done with this club now, Yamaguchi had also gotten panicked about halfway through the game and flubbed all of his serves. He’s no doubt torn up about it.

Underclassmen are fawning around him, now, reassuring him that they were just happy the team could play together, even if they lost. Only a few other boys are crying besides Yamaguchi, but, and Kei only feels a little bad about this, he can’t bring himself to care that much.

There are unspoken formalities to follow when someone cries, and Kei lets the formalities begin as he approaches Yamaguchi. The underclassmen clear away as he does so. (They’ve never warmed up to him the way that they have to Yamaguchi.)

“You did good,” he says, even if he knows Yamaguchi won’t believe it. Yamaguchi rubs at under his eyes, and he forces a laugh. Kei winces.

“I didn’t, but thanks anyway, Tsukki.” He pauses only for a moment, before continuing. “Sorry. I know you hate crying.”

“It’s fine,” Kei replies, handing Yamaguchi a clean cloth he’d taken out of his volleyball bag. Yamaguchi accepts the cloth and presses it to his face, sighing into it.

“Thanks again,” he says, and Kei nods even though Yamaguchi can’t see him.

And while Kei may not be especially fond of crying or vulnerability or formalities, for Yamaguchi, he can endure.


	8. companion

It’s an impromptu decision that leads Kei to Yamaguchi’s house, really. It’s just, Yamaguchi had prior offhandedly mentioned to Kei that he’s come down with something—a cold or a fever or both, he’s not sure—and that he’s also home alone. Kei knows that Yamaguchi’s mother works during the day, so he takes Yamaguchi’s flippant mention as a plea for help.

And that’s why he’s here, anyway, standing in front of Yamaguchi’s door. He rings the doorbell once before he figures that Yamaguchi’s not in the right shape to get to door for him, so he lets himself into the house. He speaks a soft “ _pardon the intrusion_ ” as he steps through the doorframe, but he’s met with no response.

He’s been here before, of course, so he easily makes his way to Yamaguchi’s bedroom, to see him tucked under a comforter and with another blanket draped over his head like a hood.

“Tsukki…?” he asks, pulling the blanket off his head and letting it fall back down to his neck, resting on his shoulders.

“Hey,” Kei replies, still standing in Yamaguchi’s bedroom threshold.

“I didn’t expect you to—” Yamaguchi cuts off, and he shivers. Kei frowns.

“There’s no one here to take care of you,” he says, and Yamaguchi shrinks further down into the comforter. “Have you drank any water lately?”

“I—No, I haven’t. I haven’t really gotten out of bed,” Yamaguchi admits, and if he sinks any further down into his bed, Kei won’t be able to see him anymore.

“Really?” he asks, “It’s nearly three.”

“Yeah.”

Kei purses his lips. “I’ll get you some food. Do you feel well enough to eat?”

“I can—” Yamaguchi starts, “I can do it. I’m sorry, Tsukki, you didn’t have to come. I’m just… I’m just being dumb.”

Kei cocks his head, awaiting an explanation.

“Do you ever get nervous for things, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks in lieu of the clarification Kei expects from him.

“Why do you ask?” Kei responds with his own question.

Yamaguchi gnaws on his bottom lip. “I’m nervous to start high school,” he says, sheepish. “Really nervous.”

“So nervous that it makes you sick?” Kei questions as a follow-up, and Yamaguchi nods. “Hm,” he hums, contemplative. “It’s still not good that you haven’t eaten,” he states, finally, and turns around to exit the room. “I’m going to make you something.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t protest this time; he just watches helplessly from his bed as Kei walks away, towards the kitchen.

Kei mostly thinks of advice he could give Yamaguchi while he prepares him a late lunch, but he’s grasping straws. He can’t really say that he relates to what Yamaguchi’s feeling at the moment, so advice isn’t coming easily to him. By the time he’s made Yamaguchi some food and carried it up to his room, he’s only thought of a few things to say.

“Here,” Kei says first as he walks back into Yamaguchi’s room, handing him the bowl of food he’d just cooked. Yamaguchi takes it gratefully, along with the chopsticks that Kei hands him thereafter. “Don’t be scared for school,” he says next, though he knows it won’t help without a follow up. And so, that’s what he provides. “You’re smart and funny; people will like you. So don’t worry about it.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widen at the praise, and if he hadn’t just taken a bite of food, maybe he would’ve smiled. Instead he just nods and swallows. “Thanks, Tsukki,” he says eventually.

Kei knows it’s not enough to calm Yamaguchi's nerves completely—of course it’s not; it was only a few words—but it’s too embarrassing to say, ‘ _No matter what happens, you know I’ll still be there._ ’ It’s what he means to say, though.


	9. move

Kei’s fallen into a bad habit within the first week of high school. He _knows_ that it’s not a good thing to tell his best friend to “shut up” at practically everything he says, but when practically everything Yamaguchi says pertains to telling strangers obscure details about Kei, he can’t help himself. He doesn’t _want_ these new people to know more about him; he hardly even wants them to know his given name.

But as soon as Yamaguchi has gotten over his pre-school jitters, he brags about Kei to anyone who’ll listen. It should be flattering, probably. But it’s not.

Still, Kei knows he shouldn’t tell him to “ _shut up._ ” It’s just—frankly, it’s embarrassing, the way Yamaguchi fawns over him like great-aunt. While Kei understands it’s an expression of companionship or whatever, he thinks he’d be better off if Yamaguchi had taken _any_ other way to express himself and his friendship.

And so, “shut up” it is.

It’s effective, anyway, and Yamaguchi doesn’t seem to mind it much. He laughs it off, and Kei figures that he understands it just means he’s embarrassing Kei. Whatever works, he supposes. It still slightly rubs him the wrong way, and it’s probably because he doesn’t _actually_ want Yamaguchi to shut up, he just wants him to keep the information that Kei’s granted him to himself, and not spill it out to the world.

It’s fine, though, and maybe someday Yamaguchi will stop saying embarrassing things, so Kei can stop telling him to “shut up” when he doesn’t really mean it.


	10. silver

Volleyball practice is tougher in high school, Kei comes to learn. It’s mostly because everyone but him is serious in their goal to get to Nationals. He’s unfortunately come into acquaintance with a variety of new people, most of which he’d like to spend the least amount of time with possible. On top of this, there seems to be club drama, as the upperclassmen mention a few players that aren’t currently around, and now there’s two setters with completely different sets of strengths, but Kei doesn’t really care all that much.

Yamaguchi’s always been a little different from Kei, though. It’s a pity, Kei thinks, that Yamaguchi strives to be like him. (There’s nothing really to strive to, in Kei’s mind.) Still though, Yamaguchi doesn’t follow Kei’s lead in _not caring_. The deep red of his arms and the sweat that drips down his neck that he wipes hastily away with a towel after practice attest to this. He’s trying hard, and still he’s the only first-year that’s not even being considered for the starting line-up. And again, Kei doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

It seems that Yamaguchi has enough words to say for the both of them, though. (Even when Kei tells him to “shut up.”)

“It’s a full moon,” Yamaguchi speaks as they walk out of the club room, locking it behind them as they’re the last to leave.

“Mm,” Kei hums in acknowledgment.

Yamaguchi leans over the railing just outside of the club room, craning his neck to look up at the moon. “What do you think?” he asks, glancing back at Kei for only a moment.

“What do I think?” Kei echoes back.

“Of the moon.”

This is a loaded question if Yamaguchi interprets it the same way Kei has—as a subtle prompt of self-assessment.

He declines answering in favor of his own question. “What do _you_ think?” he asks, leaning on the railing next to Yamaguchi.

“ _Nice_ , Tsukki,” Yamaguchi snickers at him, but respects his choice not to answer. “I like the moon,” he says. “Its rays are a lot less intense than the sun’s. You can’t get burned by the moon.”

“Because the moon reflects the sun,” Kei responds, looking down from where the moon hangs in the sky. He shifts his gaze to Yamaguchi, who still stares upwards.

“Well, yeah,” he answers. “That doesn’t make it any less cool.”

“Hm,” Kei hums, contemplative.

He wonders if he’s reading into Yamaguchi’s words too much.


	11. prepared

Kei’s never really been overly worried about Yamaguchi in the past. He’s good at taking care of himself, mostly, as he’s grown up with a single mother who works full-time and he’s been forced to learn certain survival skills in order to care for himself in her absence. He’s definitely self-sufficient when the time calls for it.

Lately, though, it’s been different. Kei and Yamaguchi _don’t_ walk home together more often than they _do_ , because Yamaguchi usually heads over to the Shimada Mart for extra practice.

At first, Kei had no problem with this. He didn’t understand _why_ Yamaguchi would want to put in the extra effort—and he still doesn’t—but he had no real reason to argue it. It was Yamaguchi’s own choice, his own practice, and his own sacrifice.

Kei thinks that maybe it begins to concern him when the athletic tape on Yamaguchi’s fingers never seems to go away—rather, it seems that every day there’s more, in a new place. He thinks that maybe it begins to concern him when Yamaguchi comes to practice in the morning with bruised forearms and dark bags beneath his eyes. He thinks that maybe it begins to concern him when Yamaguchi scarfs down his lunch as though he hasn’t eaten since the lunch prior.

It’s not Shimada’s fault, Kei’s sure. The adult wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to allow Yamaguchi to work himself to bone-deep exhaustion. But he must see that that’s what Yamaguchi’s doing, because Kei definitely does.

He doesn’t think that there’s a tactful way to mention this to Yamaguchi, but he does think that it’s frankly ridiculous and needs to stop. And so, he takes the matters into his own hands. When words fail him, he knows actions can do the job.

“I’ll be off—” Yamaguchi starts to say, turning on his heel to take the side road towards the Shimada Mart.

“You’re not going today,” Kei states plainly, grabbing Yamaguchi lightly by the elbow. Yamaguchi whips around to face him, confusion painting his face. Kei continues: “I’m going to your house, and I’m going to make you dinner.”

Yamaguchi just blinks at him, his mouth hanging open. “Why—”

“Have you eaten dinner, lately?” Kei cuts off Yamaguchi’s inquiry in favor of his own.

Guiltily, Yamaguchi squirms under his gaze and his grip. Kei lets go.

Kei then sighs, stepping forward and beckoning Yamaguchi to follow. “You’re overworking yourself,” he says when Yamaguchi follows his lead.

Yamaguchi looks like he’s searching for words to say, but none come to his mind. He just keeps following behind Kei, looking down at his shoes and how they scrape across the ground.

“I’m not angry with you,” Kei clarifies after a few minutes of silent walking. Yamaguchi’s caught up to him in the time past, and they now walk side-by-side. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I won’t,” Yamaguchi promises, but Kei throws him a skeptical glance—a glance that travels down to the tape on his hands and lingers there.

While Kei doesn’t say it aloud, he knows that if somehow Yamaguchi manages to fail at taking care of himself again, Kei will be there to make sure he's cared for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> truth be told this is one of the drabbles i really looked forward to writing;;;  
> i hope you're enjoying this story so far!!  
> it's a challenge but one that i really enjoy. a labor of love if you will <3


	12. knowledge

Now, he’s sure that Yamaguchi would never admit it, but Kei’s thinking that maybe Yamaguchi doesn’t quite enjoy watching nature documentaries to the same extent that Kei does. Especially not ones about honeybees. This is just a hunch on Kei’s part, though a very probable one when he first thinks about it.

There are some clues that lead Kei to this conclusion. The first and most immediate clue is that Yamaguchi has just fallen asleep, his head lolling onto Kei’s shoulder. So, okay, maybe Kei only _has_ one clue, but it’s a pretty solid one in his opinion. It could just be Kei’s slight panic talking, though, as he tries to think about what to do with the warm weight of Yamaguchi pressed against him.  

After Kei’s gotten over his immediate shock, however, he takes another moment to think this situation through. They’ve watched a lot of different documentaries in the past, and Yamaguchi’s never looked thoroughly _disinterested_ , not to the point of slumber, anyway. So, unless he finds honeybees to be an exceptionally boring topic, the reason that he’s fallen asleep tonight isn’t boredom—it’s his lack of rest otherwise.

Kei’s been keeping a watchful eye on him recently as best he can, doing things such as asking him in the mornings if he’s eaten breakfast, and if he hasn’t, offering him the extra granola bar in his sports bag. They aren’t big gestures by any means, but he hopes they’ll keep Yamaguchi on his feet, anyway.

So, Kei thinks, letting Yamaguchi sleep on his shoulder is just another small gesture. It’s not hurting Kei in any way, besides maybe the drool that’s coming sparingly close to seeping into his shirt. But he’ll lend his shoulder over to Yamaguchi for awhile anyway, since he surely needs the sleep, after all.


	13. denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for an Iconic Canon Moment

Naturally, it had started with Yamaguchi.

Kei just doesn’t quite grasp what causes him to work himself to exhaustion, what motivates him to keep going when he’s put in all this work and he’s still not even a regular. And when he looks around at the rest of his team, they’re working almost the same way. (The upperclassmen are better at taking care of themselves than Yamaguchi is, but in terms of effort, they’re all about the same.)

It just honestly _doesn’t make sense_. What are they all working towards? Nationals, obviously. But _why_? And how can they be so determined? They won’t get much out of this in the long run. All their hard work will be as good as forgotten as soon as they enter the workforce, or even as soon as college. Yamaguchi, his brother, and the rest of them—they’ve all worked so _hard_ , and for what? Kei finds it impossible to get inside their heads and understand.

Kei’s own head is stuffed full with these questions, so much so that it takes him a moment to register that someone’s yelling for him. Not someone— _Yamaguchi’s_ yelling for him, as well as running at him. And when he comes to a stop in front of Kei, he doubles over in an attempt to catch his breath.

It’s only a moment before Yamaguchi confesses to something Kei already knows, of his jealousy. Kei doesn’t see a point in his making a scene for this. Yamaguchi won’t look him in the face.

But suddenly, Yamaguchi’s speaking with fervor, his gesticulations wild and eyes wide, locked with Kei’s. Kei stares at him, almost unable to think or to register the words that come out of his mouth. Almost. He understands well enough to put together a coherent counter argument, mostly by summing up all the thoughts that have been swirling around in his mind up to now.

“Even if you are able to show some results somewhere, you’ll never actually be number one! You’re gonna lose somewhere! You all know that, so how can you keep going?” He doesn’t realize that he’s yelling until he’s staring straight at a downcast Yamaguchi, his teeth clenched and his fists balled at his sides. Kei swallows thickly in the free moment before Yamaguchi’s yelling back.

Kei’s being yanked forward by the collar of his shirt, and he doesn’t know that he’s ever seen Yamaguchi like this—so full of _charge_. “ _Motivation_? What more do you need than pride?!”

Silence hangs over them, and all Kei can bring himself to do in response is call Yamaguchi ‘cool.’ It’s a cop-out, mostly, because Kei’s known that Yamaguchi’s been cool for a long time, but he also knows that Yamaguchi doesn’t think that of himself, so it’ll be a shock. It works well enough.

And maybe Kei’s just hopeless, because Yamaguchi yelling at him somehow still isn’t enough.


	14. wind

Sometimes, Kei wishes that the wind could blow his thoughts away the same way that it tousles Yamaguchi’s hair. He just—he has so _many_ thoughts. They’re prying and pressing and prodding at him, and if the wind could just pick them up and take them away, Kei would not complain.

He should talk to his brother. That’s most of what he’s been thinking about lately. He _has_ to talk to his brother, no matter how much he doesn’t want to. It’s the first hurdle in overcoming what he’s sure this is—some kind of complex that he has—but even if he knows that, he still can’t bring himself to pick up the phone.

Yamaguchi has already yelled at him and told him all that he has to say. He won’t mention it again, probably. Kei almost wishes he would. It’s better to be yelled at than sink deeper into his thoughts while watching Yamaguchi’s hair being blown in the wind, for god’s sake.

Kei just feels awful. He doesn’t know _what_ he feels, exactly, but he’s in some kind of middle-zone. He’s in the in-between, and all he knows is that it’s awful here. He can’t figure out what he wants or _how_ to figure out what he wants. Whenever he looks at someone or something, he feels like he’s looking right through them. He’s stuck in a middle-distance.

He should talk to his brother. Really. It's been too long since they used to stand in the backyard and talk and practice volleyball. It's been too long since Kei's been playfully and lovingly teased. It's been too long since they've been _brothers_. But all Kei can ever bring himself to do is talk to Yamaguchi, and for right now, Yamaguchi isn’t talking to _him_. Everything’s off.

And still, the wind won’t take his thoughts away. Perhaps they're too heavy. He has to deal with them himself, or he thinks he might drown in them.

He’ll talk to his brother, and maybe things will start to feel more normal. Maybe when he looks at Yamaguchi he won’t feel like he’s letting him down. Maybe he can get out of this in-between.

“Hey, Yamaguchi,” Kei says, and he’s still watching Yamaguchi’s hair as it flutters in the strong breeze. He has an urge to reach forward and flatten it down, but he doesn’t.

“Yes?” Yamaguchi blinks up at him, eyes wide and curious. Kei looks away.

“I’m going to talk to my brother.”


	15. order

Akiteru’s teammates are obnoxious, mostly. They’re much older and stronger, but they’re somehow just as annoying and pester Kei just as much as Hinata and Kageyama do.

But even so, this—practicing with Akiteru and his team—is a step in what he hopes is the right direction. He’s starting to feel it, maybe, feel a fraction of what his own teammates feel. What drives them to improve is nothing more than the _wish_ to improve and the _will_ to make it happen, and now that he sees that, he knows that’s what Yamaguchi had told him right away. But Kei can’t summon a wish and a will all in one day, so this is the first step.

His hands hurt after practicing with the adults, and just like Yamaguchi’s hands had awhile ago, his own start building up layers of sports tape. When Yamaguchi sees this, he purses his lips, and Kei can’t quite read his expression. It’s—ambivalent. That’s the best way Kei can think to put it, anyway. Yamaguchi’s torn over the tape on Kei’s fingers, but he doesn’t say anything about it either way.

Kei doesn’t improve at a rampant pace, though he does improve. His brother’s proud, but Kei’s still slightly uncomfortable with his praise. It may be moreso that he’s _embarrassed_ rather than uncomfortable, and he thinks that’s probably an important detail.

He’s starting to feel less hazy, though—less ‘ _middle-distance._ 'His thoughts are more ordered; he doesn’t think about all those same useless things that used to clog his mind not long ago. This leaves room for Kei to think of other things that have prodded at him for awhile, and that… might not be so good.


	16. thanks

It’s awhile before Kei realizes that he never said it. By _awhile_ he means _far too long_ , and by _it_ he means _thank you_. He owes that to Yamaguchi, surely. (He probably owes more than just that from all the years passed.)

So, as Yamaguchi splays out across Kei’s bedroom floor, his legs kicked up behind him and his nose buried in the newest issue of _Shonen Jump_ , Kei figures it’s as good a time as he’ll ever get to voice his overdue appreciation.

“Hey, Yamaguchi,” he says, and since he’s sitting up on his bed, Yamaguchi has to crane his neck to look at him. “Thanks.”

“What?” Yamaguchi questions, furrowing his brows.

Maybe it would have been a good idea to plan ahead, Kei realizes in hindsight.

“Uh, for…” he trails, adjusting his glasses as a ploy to gain him some extra thinking time. “For… that one time.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Yamaguchi replies, but he’s obviously intrigued. He closes the manga and shifts positions so he’s sitting criss-cross, staring up at Kei with curious eyes.

Kei swallows thickly. “At that training camp in Tokyo, you remember.”

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says, then, “ _oh_."

“Yeah. Uh, thanks.” He scratches at the back of his neck, right above where the collar of his shirt rests.

“Thanks for what?” Yamaguchi still doesn’t quite understand the sentiment. “Yelling at you?”

Kei doesn’t make a move to respond.

“Was that all you needed to get out of that funk? I thought it was moreso talking to Akiteru-kun," Yamaguchi scratches at his cheek with his index finger. He's right, Kei supposes, but he doesn't know how long it would have been before he spoke about this to his brother had Yamaguchi not called him out. "I suppose you don’t get yelled at a lot. Your mom’s so nice and all.” Now, he's starting to digress.

“That’s not the point,” Kei sighs. “Just, thanks.”

Yamaguchi cocks his head, but doesn’t prod any further. “You’re welcome for whatever, Tsukki. I’ll yell at you again, if I feel it’s necessary.”

Kei doesn’t quite know why that makes him smile.


	17. look

There are certain things that Kei knows are dangerous from past experience. There’s overthinking, and overworking, and standing directly in front of Hinata when he serves. There’s vulnerability, and talking to Kuroo Tetsurou, and putting too much faith in people. So many things are dangerous, just not all in the typical sense of the word.

Now, _this_ —Kei isn’t sure that this is dangerous. It _feels_ dangerous, though, the way he can’t pull his eyes away from the slope of Yamaguchi’s neck and the bead of sweat the rolls down it.

The upperclassmen have already left, but Kageyama and Hinata begged to stay late, saying they would clean up and take care of everything. Yamaguchi had also commented about wanting to work a little longer on his serve. So, as one does, Kei stayed after, too. He’d told himself it was just to keep an eye on Yamaguchi so he didn’t work _too_ hard, but he hadn’t meant this to himself so literally. He blinks hard.

Hinata and Kageyama are off in one of the corners, spiking volleyballs against the wall. Kei’s sitting against the wall in the opposite corner, just off to the side from where Yamaguchi practices his serves.

Yamaguchi takes a deep breath, and Kei finds himself breathing in with him. He twirls the ball in his palms, and then holds it out in just one. Kei watches intently as he lifts his other arm, the movement folding the light material of his white tee-shirt.

Kei clears his throat, diverting his gaze. He folds his arms around his knees in front of him, and sets his head on them. He hears the swoosh of a volleyball hitting the net—Yamaguchi’s serve must have failed. He peeks to see Yamaguchi sighing and treading forward to retrieve the ball that’s very slowly rolling towards him. His shoes squeak against the floor, and Kei sets his head back down, closing his eyes.

“You almost done, Yamaguchi?” he says into his arms after he hears another two serves—one failed, one successful. He lifts his head to see Yamaguchi whipping around to look at him.

“What’s that, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi chirps back, dribbling the volleyball once before catching it and holding it in his hands.

“We should be going soon.” He speaks in code for ‘ _You’ve been practicing for a long time, now_.’

“Oh,” Yamaguchi breathes and looks up at the clock, “You’re right.”

Courteously, they take down the net, but they leave the rest to Kageyama and Hinata.

Kei puts too much effort in not letting his gaze linger on Yamaguchi as they walk home together, focusing instead on his shoes scraping against the ground. Yamaguchi doesn’t seem to notice anything is different. Kei wishes nothing  _was_ different.


	18. summer

Volleyball practice is brought to a close early one day in late summer, just after the team’s two wins in the Spring High Prelims. Dark clouds just started rolling over the sky and they look, in Takeda’s own words, “treacherous.” And so, since they all have to walk back to their houses—or bike, in Hinata’s case—Takeda and Ukai decide to let them go early, in an attempt to beat the storm.

Thus far, it’s not going so well. Kei thinks it probably would’ve been better if they had stayed at the gym and waited out the storm. Yamaguchi’s holding his black volleyball jacket over his head as the rain falls increasingly harshly, but it’s not helping him much. Kei hasn’t put any effort into stopping the rain; his hair is matted down against his head, water dripping off of the strands and down his face. (He should have grabbed the umbrella his mom told him to this morning.)

Yamaguchi suddenly grabs a hold on Kei’s wrist and yanks him off their usual path. It takes Kei a split second to realize why he’s no longer feeling stinging raindrops against his cheeks—Yamaguchi has dragged him under an abandoned awning.

“We should wait here,” Yamaguchi says, and he’s shivering. His teeth chatter, too, actually. He shouldn’t have taken off his jacket before. Kei’s is almost soaked through, though, so he's not quite sure what the best course of action is here. Either way, it wouldn’t be much help for Kei to give his jacket to to Yamaguchi, and the fact that the thought even crosses his mind is a little troublesome.

“Yeah,” Kei agrees, careful not to look at the way the thin material of Yamaguchi’s white shirt clings to his back.

“Tsukki?”

Kei turns to look at Yamaguchi at the call of his name, and Yamaguchi has spread his jacket on the ground and sat on it, but he’s looking back up at Kei over his shoulder.

Kei clears his throat. “What is it.”

“You look cold,” he says, which is almost laughable since Yamaguchi's own lips are turning blue.  _Don't look_ , Kei scolds himself offhandedly. 

“Well,” Kei shifts his gaze away. “I am. And you look cold, too. We’re drenched.”

“Right, right, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi sighs, his teeth still clicking together. He pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

Kei suddenly remembers he’s carrying a volleyball bag—a volleyball bag that, in fact, holds an extra (more importantly _dry_ ) jacket. It’s either his or Yamaguchi’s lucky day, and as he digs into his bag, Kei decides on just whose.

“Here,” he says, laying his dry jacket over Yamaguchi’s shivering shoulders.

_Troublesome_ , Kei thinks. It’s not directed at Yamaguchi.


	19. transformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's that time again. iconic canon moment time

Blocking one of Japan’s top high school aces is… _satisfactory_ , to a point.

After the initial rush, after hearing the ball smack against the floor on the other side of the net and letting out what can only be called a victorious battle cry, after dislocating his pinky finger and being forced out of the gym, after coming back in just the nick of time to win the game with his team—after all that, Kei finally retreats to the bathroom, where, if only for a moment, he can be alone.

His hand hurts like hell as he presses it against the basin, and his head hurts, too. _One spike_ , echos around Kei’s mind, _You only blocked one_. It’s true—out of all the spikes that had come from Ushijima’s hand, Kei managed to stop a grand total of one. That’s one more than every other middle-blocker, but there are only two and the other one’s Hinata, so that can only count for so much.

The water’s running. It’s loud, swirling around the drain, but not enough to drown out Kei's thoughts. Kei’s sweat drips off of the tip of his nose and into the sink, and he clenches his teeth, tightens his grip on the sides of the basin, even though it hurts. _One spike_.

The door swings open. Kei doesn’t look up.

“Tsukki,”—Kei lets out a minuscule breath of relief at the nickname—“The awards ceremony is starting.” When Kei doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t respond at all, Yamaguchi blinks, and inquires carefully, “Is something wrong?”

Kei can trust him to know.

The water is still running. Kei’s clutch on the basin gets tighter yet, and he can feel Yamaguchi’s eyes on his hunched back, but he still won’t look. There’s something about this that feels familiar.

“I said I would stop a handful of his spikes,” Kei speaks shamefully down into the sink, almost as if it'll swallow up his words. “but I was only able to stop one. Even though there were five sets.”

Something akin to tension builds in the air.

Kei takes a breath, but it’s like the air is thick, heavy with unsaid words. “Talk about lame—”  

Yamaguchi yells, then. It’s not harsh or maliciously intended—it’s needed and it’s _Yamaguchi_. There’s no other way Kei can think to describe it.

“There’s no way that you were lame!” he assures forcefully, “Are you stupid?”

Kei’s mouth drops open, and he finally pulls away from the sink to stare at Yamaguchi with wide eyes. He hadn’t thought of this quite _that_ way. “Stupid—”

“This isn’t the time to be down!” Yamaguchi continues, his arms waving around wildly. “We’re going to nationals!” He grabs the edge of the bathroom door, and Kei’s still staring at him, jaw lack. “But before that—the awards ceremony.”

The door smacks shut, and shell-shocked Kei watches through the opaque window as Yamaguchi’s blurred silhouette stomps away from the bathroom.  

The familiarity of the situation hits him at once—he’s suddenly back in the fading heat of the nighttime at that Tokyo training camp, where Yamaguchi had rattled him by the collar of his shirt.

This time is different, though. This time, Yamaguchi's yelling is perfectly _enough_.

Kei slides on his glasses with his injured hand, and he grins.


	20. tremble

Confidence is a weird thing with Yamaguchi. Sometimes—namely times when Kei’s being too hard on himself, he’s come to notice—Yamaguchi overflows with it. But at times like these, times when it’s quiet and a soft tension sits upon their tongues, all his confidence has somehow vaporized into thin air. 

It only takes a moment for Kei to realize that he and Yamaguchi are walking just a bit closer than normal on their trip home after practice, and their knuckles brush once as they walk. Yamaguchi tries to disguise the fact that he’s flinched by coughing into the crook of his arm. He doesn’t step away, though, and when he drops his arm back down, his hand is shaking. 

Kei knows this because he’s looking, watching, observing. His gaze shifts up to Yamaguchi’s face, then, and he’s turning a pretty dusted pink under the artificial lighting of the streetlamps. He’s well aware that Kei is watching him closely. 

“Yamaguchi—” Kei starts, but he’s abruptly cut off when Yamaguchi bridges the small distance between their hands, linking their pinkies together. Kei’s breath catches in his throat; he gapes and blinks down at the hands. They both stop in their tracks. 

Yamaguchi’s hand is warm, and it’s still trembling. He stares at Kei with expectant, hopeful eyes. Kei almost wants to bring Yamaguchi’s quivering hand up to his lips and press a kiss to his knuckles, but he doesn’t. 

After a few fleeting moments, Yamaguchi diverts his gaze in embarrassment and slides his pinky away from Kei’s. Their arms fall back to their sides. An invisible wall is being pieced together right between them. 

One second passes, and then another. The wall grows higher, but before the third second, Kei reaches past the wall and clasps Yamaguchi’s hand in his own, his fingers fitting perfectly in the gaps between Yamaguchi’s. 

Yamaguchi lets out a breath of relief, and he casts Kei a bright smile, squeezing his hand twice in succession. Kei squeezes back just once and then shrugs his slight grin into the collar of his jacket.


	21. sunset

One day in December before Kageyama and Kei are to leave for their intensive training camps, Daichi decides to treat everyone to meat buns. It’s mostly unnecessary, seeing as everyone else will continue practice as normal, just without Kei or Kageyama in the mix, but Kei suspects that Sugawara talked Daichi into it. (He has a way of getting Daichi to buy him food; it’s almost inspirational.)

They don’t have after-school practice today, since all club activities have been canceled due to the oncoming winter storm. It’s supposed to hit at five o’clock, though, so there’s plenty of time to stop at the Sakanoshita Store and still make it home before the storm.

Oddly enough, there are only a few wispy clouds floating up in the sky as for now. The sun’s sinking down to the horizon, though by the time everyone’s standing outside of the shop with their meat buns in hand, the sky’s transformed into layers of red, orange, pink, and then purple. Far off in the distance, dark storm clouds roll in.

Yamaguchi huffs out a breath at the sight, and it condenses before fading into the air. “Pretty,” he says before taking a bite of his bun.

“Mm,” Kei hums. His eyes trail up from his teammates that loiter around outside of the shop, speaking idly about how much snow they think will actually fall, and to the sky.

“Hey,” Yamaguchi suddenly speaks to get Kei's attention, holding his meat bun in one hand and digging into his pocket with the other. He pulls out his phone and commands: “Tsukki, say ‘cheese.’”

Kei blinks at him. “What?”

“I want to take your picture!”

“Uh—No.” Kei lifts his unused hand to shield his face from the phone’s camera.

Yamaguchi juts out his bottom lip. “Just one? It’ll be _pretty_.”

Kei stares at him, and swallows thickly. “One,” he permits, lowering his hand. (The faster this is over with, the faster Yamaguchi will stop pestering him about it.)

Yamaguchi brightens back up immediately, adjusting his phone so it frames both Kei and the sky behind him as a backdrop. “Smile!”

Kei’s lips quirk up just slightly on one side, and he can feel the eyes of some of his teammates settle upon him. As soon as Yamaguchi has snapped the picture, Kei shakes his head.

“That was embarrassing.”

Yamaguchi doesn’t hear him, because he’s too busy cooing at the picture.

“ _You’re_ embarrassing,” Kei says just to tease, and Yamaguchi shoots a small scowl his way, but it transforms almost immediately into a grin.

“It’s a good picture, Tsukki,” he says, and Kei has to clear his throat and look away or else he might blush and embarrass himself even further. “Do you want to see?”

“I’m good,” he replies, taking a bite of his meat bun so Yamaguchi won’t ask him any further questions.

Yamaguchi looks at his phone one last time before stuffing it back into his pocket, and then he takes a few steps closer to Kei, nudging him just barely with his shoulder. The bite to the winter air has turned the tip of Yamaguchi’s nose red, and Kei imagines that he looks the same way.

It’s probably not that good of a picture, really, but if Yamaguchi likes it so much, Kei won’t suggest anything about deleting it.


	22. mad

In Kei’s absence, Yamaguchi has built up a layer of sports tape on his fingers.

Kei’s not mad about it—he’s _not_ —he just wishes that he could have realized sooner. It’s not his fault he’s been at a training camp, sure, but it’s his fault that he didn’t notice anything weird when Yamaguchi hadn’t answered his texts until late into the night.

It’s impossible not to notice it now, though, as Kei sits with his back against the headboard of Yamaguchi’s bed, watching Yamaguchi toss a volleyball up into the air as he sits in his desk chair. Kei notes the faint bruising that resides in places where practice receives must have gone haywire—the inside of Yamaguchi’s elbows, his inner wrist, and just barely, where his tee-shirt sleeve mostly covers it, his bicep. Yamaguchi’s pinky and ring finger are also taped together on his left hand.

“Yamaguchi,” Kei says, and Yamaguchi catches the ball he’d been tossing with a solid _thump_.

“Hm?” he hums, turning to look back at Kei and setting the volleyball in his lap.

Kei blinks at the bruise on Yamaguchi’s wrist, and Yamaguchi follows Kei’s line of sight down to see it, as well.

“You’re…” Kei trails, swinging his legs off of the edge of Yamaguchi’s bed and pressing his feet to the floor.

Yamaguchi frowns down at the bruise. “I know.”

“But you still—”

“I know, Tsukki. I know it’s weird.” Yamaguchi cuts Kei off, eyes focused on the way he’s dragging his fingertips across the hems of the volleyball in his lap.

Kei purses his lips, standing from the bed and walking the few paces over to Yamaguchi. “It’s not weird,” he says, reaching down to grab the hand with sports tape on it. Yamaguchi’s hands are—as always—warm against Kei’s.

“Okay,” Yamaguchi won’t meet Kei’s gaze. “Not _weird_. But it’s—I don’t know. I know it’s bad.”

Kei holds Yamaguchi by the wrist with one hand and drags the pointer finger of his other hand over the white tape wrapped around Yamaguchi’s fingers. “I don’t want to have to worry about you,” he says, disregarding the fact that he _will_ worry, no matter what, because he cares.

“Sorry—”

“No,” Kei interrupts. “Don’t apologize to me.” He flips Yamaguchi’s hand in his own so their palms press together, now tracing his pointer finger across the bones that jut slightly from the back of Yamaguchi’s hand and lead to his knuckles.

Yamaguchi stares up at Kei with confused eyes.

“Just—Just promise to yourself that you’ll do better next time.” Kei drops Yamaguchi’s hand, and it falls down hang by Yamaguchi’s side.

Yamaguchi blinks at him once, twice.

“Thanks, Tsukki,” he says finally, “I will.”

Kei offers him a slight smile, then, because he doesn’t want Yamaguchi to think he’s mad or even disappointed when he’s not. He just _cares,_ and for once, no part of him is yelling for him not to.


	23. thousand

There’s an old saying—“A picture’s worth a thousand words.” And sure, maybe a _picture_ is worth a thousand. But Kei thinks that Yamaguchi’s smile is probably worth ten thousand more.

He’ll never say it aloud, but it’s just that there’s something about specifically _his_. It’s not a perfect smile, per se—Yamaguchi has a cross-bite and his teeth aren’t quite straight—but that somehow adds to the appeal. And he surely smiles without restraint, unlike Kei, so there’s no rarity aspect to it.

But, maybe Kei shouldn’t attempt to give reason to the fact that every time he sees Yamaguchi smile at him it feels like he’s stolen all the words out of Kei’s mouth. It’s—It happens. Okay.

Kei realizes this isn’t unlike when they were kids, getting first acquainted, when Yamaguchi had made Kei what seemed to be irreversibly flustered just by nicknaming him “Tsukki.” This isn’t unlike the first time Kei noticed Tadashi’s overworking and became unprecedentedly concerned. And it certainly isn’t unlike the times Kei has had to make an active effort to peel his eyes off of Yamaguchi’s back, his arms, the slope of his neck.

This isn’t unlike a _crush_.

Now, Kei’s not stupid. He prides himself in being quite _not stupid_ , so he very well knows and has known for a long while that he likes Yamaguchi in a way that differs from a usual pair of childhood friends. But to call it a _crush_ feels demeaning, somehow, especially when it seems that Yamaguchi reciprocates.

It’s late to be assessing this, probably, as Kei’s gloved hand is clasped with Yamaguchi’s ungloved one, and as Yamaguchi grins and tells a story about something stupid Hinata had done while they visited that shrine on New Year's. But even if he hasn’t explicitly assessed this until now, Kei’s been aware of it for longer than he would care to admit.

But Yamaguchi’s probably in love, too, so it’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')


	24. outside

It doesn’t surprise Kei that he’s never truly melded together with the rest of the volleyball club—after all, nearly half of them clash with Kei so much that he can’t stand to be in a room with them for very long unless there’s a volleyball in the air. (And even then, it’s pushing it.)

Sometimes, he can’t help but absentmindedly wonder what it’d be like if he _did_ get along with everyone. Yamaguchi does.

But still, as he stands off to the side of the group while Tanaka tells an embellished story to anyone who will listen, and while Nishinoya jumps onto Yamaguchi’s back and rocks him forward with the impact, and while Sugawara, Asahi, and Daichi all chuckle to themselves as they watch Yachi attempting to intervene in one of Kageyama and Hinata’s squabbles, Kei almost feels like he’s stuck behind a pane of glass. There’s really no place for him in this scene, besides maybe to insult someone the way he does when he can find something snarky to say (and that doesn’t necessarily feel like the best role to have).

Everyone’s so _loud_ , though. They’re loud and passionate and energetic and so very not _Kei_. So even if Kei thinks about a parallel reality where they all get along, he doesn’t really want to make it happen. There's definitely a door in the glass wall, but Kei doesn't really possess an urge to open it. He doesn’t necessarily feel bad about not fitting in, and he’s just content to watch them all, anyway. He cares about his team in his own, detached way, even if they don't think he does.

And there’s always Yamaguchi, who shatters the invisible glass wall constantly—or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he passes through the door and joins Kei on the other side. Either way, he’s here, and even if Kei offhandedly imagines otherwise, he quite likes the way that it is now.


	25. winter

Yamaguchi wears a dark brown scarf, and he’s keen to tying it in a knot just at the base of his neck. Except he can’t quite reach to tie it himself, so Kei makes himself useful by tying it for him, looping the ends of the scarf together and tugging them snug.

“Thanks, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi chirps, and Kei just nods. (He does this for Yamaguchi almost every day in the winter.)

And after they’re all set, they begin on their walk towards home—or, in Yamaguchi’s case, the Shimada Mart. The walk is quiet; their hands dangle at their sides for only a few moments until Yamaguchi snatches Kei’s up in his own. They haven’t talked about this—whatever _this_ is—yet. Kei wonders if they will.

Their feet crunch satisfactorily in the snow as they walk, entwined hands swinging between them. Yamaguchi quietly hums to a tune Kei doesn’t recognize. If he ignores the way the cold air nips at any of his exposed skin, Kei’s comfortable like this.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says to get his attention, that which Kei gives readily, “I’m going to buy you some earmuffs.”

Kei blinks. “Earmuffs?”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi affirms, lifting up his hand that’s not holding Kei’s across his body and pressing it to one of Kei’s ears. “Your ears are really red.”

“I don’t know that I’d wear earmuffs,” Kei responds, shrugging Yamaguchi’s hand away from his ear.

Yamaguchi retracts, but insists: “You should. Or I could just get you a hat.”

“Hm,” Kei hums, contemplative. “If you _must_ , then I guess I’d wear a hat.”

Yamaguchi grins. “One with a poof ball on top?”

“Pushing it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Kei just shakes his head, a light smile residing on his lips.

It’s hardly another moment before they reach the spot in the path where they part ways and Yamaguchi slides his hand out of Kei’s. He lifts this same hand up to wave goodbye, even though Kei stands hardly a foot away from him.

“See you tomorrow,” Kei responds to the gesture, and adds, “Make sure you eat when you get home.”

“Promise,” Yamaguchi says with a nod, and then turns on his heel. “See you, Tsukki!”

Kei watches as Yamaguchi walks a few paces, leaving footprints in the snow, before he continues on his own route towards home.


	26. diamond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prompt was hard;;; but in the end i like how it turned out! these nerds nd their documentaries i swear...
> 
> i also want to thank those of you who read these every day, or even just check back and catch up periodically! it means a lot to me that you guys enjoy this. <3 <3

Yamaguchi blinks at the computer screen, the white light cast upon his face and Kei’s alike as the computer sits in the middle of their laps.

“Did you hear that, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi questions, looking from the screen and to Kei.

“The Roman thing? Yeah.”

Yamaguchi hums his affirmation before quoting the documentary: “ _‘Ancient Greeks and Romans are thought to have believed that diamonds were tears of the gods or splinters from stars_.’ What do you think about that?”

The documentary continues to play despite their conversation, rattling off facts about the durability of different gemstones.

“What do I think?” Kei raises an eyebrow, and Yamaguchi nods. “I think that it’s pretty typical of Ancient Rome and Greece.”

“Well, yeah. But—” Yamaguchi cocks his head. “Don’t you think that it’s kind of romantic?”

Kei shrugs. “I suppose.”

“ _Splinters from stars_ , Tsukki! That’s so romantic,” Yamaguchi insists, though he redirects his gaze back to the screen. “ _Tears of the gods_ is good, though, too. But it’d probably hurt to cry gemstones.”

Kei will admit that this particular documentary is pretty boring, so he can’t blame Yamaguchi for taking one of the more interesting things and fixating on it.

“I imagine it’d hurt a lot,” Kei comments, “but you’d be rich.”

“Ah, suddenly it’s a moral issue,” Yamaguchi sighs, “Endure the pain for the money or not?”

Kei hums, contemplative. “I don’t think I would.”

“Me either,” Yamaguchi agrees. “But I think that if anyone cried diamonds, it’d be you.”

“Wh—” Kei, taken slightly aback, cuts himself off, but starts again, “Why would you think that?”

Yamaguchi presses the pad of his index finger to his cheek, where a dimple would be if he smiled. “You never cry,” he says after only a moment.

“So?”

“It’s rare,” Yamaguchi supplies, but he shrugs. Kei can tell that he’s beginning to feel embarrassed in having to explain himself.

“Diamonds aren’t rare, you know. Have you listened at all?” Kei gestures at the screen with a teasing smile, and Yamaguchi groans.

“Whatever! It just seems fitting.”

“For me to cry diamonds?”

“Never mind, Tsukki. Forget I said it.”

“Hmm,” Kei purses his lips for a moment, before: “No.”

Yamaguchi groans again. “Please.”

“No,” Kei says again, donning a small but wicked smile. (He likes the pink that rises to Yamaguchi’s cheeks when he’s teased like this.) “Next time I cry, I’ll bottle it for you. Do you think it would sell for much?”

“ _Tsukki_ ,” Yamaguchi whines weakly. “Stop it.”

Kei stops it—Yamaguchi has reached a satisfactory shade of pink—and he chuckles to himself, shaking his head fondly.


	27. letters

Cheery background music emits from the speakers of Yamaguchi’s DS as he presses at the buttons lazily, his feet draped over Kei’s lap while they sit on Yamaguchi’s living room couch. Kei sets his book down on Yamaguchi’s ankles, holding it in place as he reads.

It’s quiet until the front door opens, Yamaguchi’s mother walking inside.

“Oh, Kei!” she exclaims upon sight. “It’s nice to see you,” she grins, big and bright just like her son. Kei can’t help but reciprocate the gesture, albeit to a less dazzling scale.

Yamaguchi retracts his feet from Kei’s lap and sits up to see his mother as she begins to speak to him.

“Tadashi, there was a package for you,” she says, holding out a box for Yamaguchi.

He perks up, making grabby hands for the box. “Really?”

“Really,” his mother affirms, “It’s addressed from…” she trails, looking at the packaging. “Aunt Hiroko.”

Yamaguchi stands from the couch, then, to go get the package from his mother. After he has it in his own hands, he chirps his thanks and then gestures for Kei to follow him into the kitchen.

“My aunt Hiroko lives in Germany,” Yamaguchi says, producing a pair of scissors from one of the kitchen drawers. "So, she sends stuff every once in awhile." 

Kei hums his acknowledgement, watching as Yamaguchi cuts through the tape on the box. It’s a slow and painful process, as all of the seams of the box have been choked up with duct tape.

When Yamaguchi finally manages to pry the box open, a letter sits on the top. He takes the letter out and sets it off to the side on the counter top, and they both peer into the box.

Another box that holds a Polaroid camera sits inside, surrounded by various foreign candies. Yamaguchi lets out a little _‘ooh’_ , before he takes the scissors and cuts through the tape on that box, as well. Besides just the camera being in the box, there’s also a package of film.

Yamaguchi’s mother walks in, then, as Yamaguchi fiddles with the camera and Kei reads the instructions.

“You should write her a thank you letter,” she suggests, watching as Yamaguchi pops a latch on the back of the camera open to put in batteries.

“Good idea,” Yamaguchi agrees, and then his gaze snaps over to the letter from his aunt that he’s neglected reading until now. He reaches for it and breaks the seal.

Kei finishes reading the directions while Yamaguchi’s reading his letter, so Kei takes the camera and finishes the setup.

“Okay, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says once he’s set the letter back down, “Let’s take a picture that I can send back with my thank you letter!”

Kei hesitates, but he hands the camera to Yamaguchi anyway. Yamaguchi holds it above their heads with one hand, and throws up a peace sign with the other. Kei manages a closed-lipped smile.

The picture takes a moment to print and develop after Yamaguchi snaps it.

“Oh,” Yamaguchi says, grinning down at the picture that he holds carefully pinched between his forefinger and thumb. “This is cute. I think I’ll keep it, instead.” He turns the picture so that Kei can see it, and he will agree— _Yamaguchi_ looks cute. He won’t say it, though. Especially not while Yamaguchi’s mother stands idly by and watches them, slightly amused.

She doesn’t get to loiter off to the side much longer, though, before Yamaguchi pulls her in for a picture of her own.


	28. promise

Time after three in the morning, Kei notes, feels more fake than usual. The darkness in the corners of Yamaguchi’s room swirls, somehow, as they sit in the middle of his floor with an unfinished board game spread out between them. Yamaguchi almost seems like he’s tipsy off of the moonlight that slices into the room through a sole slit in the blinds, but it must just be the time.

Kei contemplates picking the game back up by drawing a card, but Yamaguchi’s gnawing at his bottom lip and staring at his hands with furrowed eyebrows, so Kei’s more keen to just watch him and see what will unfold.

It’s hardly a moment before Yamaguchi lets his bottom lip free from his teeth with a wet smacking noise, which reverberates around in Kei's head for far longer than necessary. Yamaguchi then extends one of his hands towards Kei, with his pinky sticking out. He nods at his hand.

“Take it,” he says.

Kei blinks at him, at his outstretched hand, but then he also reaches forward and proceeds to intertwine their pinkies. They hold steady over the now completely forgotten board game, their eyes locked. It feels more intense than it probably should, but it _is_ past three in the morning, and everything’s a bit strange.

Yamaguchi swallows hard, diverts his gaze for only a moment before he looks back, something unrecognizable flickering behind his eyes. Kei's heart pounds inexplicably in his chest.

“Promise we’ll always be there for each other?” Yamaguchi's voice is small but passionate, wanting, _needing_. "Can you promise?" 

And Yamaguchi must _really_ be bleary, his thought process altered by lack of sleep, because there’s no way that Kei would ever say anything to that question other than “Yes.”

So, that's just what he does. In a bout of three A.M. confidence, he pulls his and Yamaguchi's hands closer to himself, in turn tugging Yamaguchi towards him. Yamaguchi presses his unused hand against the board game for leverage, nudging a few of the game pieces. His eyes are wide, reflecting the emotion prior portrayed in his voice. Kei takes a breath and presses a kiss to where his and Yamaguchi's pinkies are linked.

"I promise." 


	29. simple

Sometimes, things are simple. Two plus two equals four; all squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares.

And this is simple, as if it’s a fact of nature. Kei loves Yamaguchi. He’s loved him since they were little, picking dandelions and tying the stems together in the park, probably. He’s loved him through all the overworking and all the little moments and all the times when he should’ve been better to Yamaguchi than he was.

Yamaguchi _must_ know this, too. He has to know. It’s too… embarrassing and saccharine for Kei to say it out loud, but he knows that he’s implied it many times over.

It would probably be more simple to just say it, swallow his pride and lay his emotions on the table—though he could count the number of times he’s done that on one hand.

He’s not— _nervous_ about it, per se. Kei is almost positive that Yamaguchi reciprocates whatever he’s feeling; it’s just whenever he thinks about saying anything about it, his throat gets tight and he becomes hyper aware of the thump of his heart in his chest. It’s _Yamaguchi_ , this shouldn’t happen in response to _Yamaguchi_. Though maybe it should.

Kei doesn’t know that he’s done anything this important before, anything more important than telling the person most important to him that he is just that—the _most_ important. So, maybe he’s a little unnerved.

He gave himself time to sort it out, first. He’s been sorting this out for years. But all the pieces are snug together, now, like how Kei’s fingers slot between Yamaguchi’s. Kei just has to find a way to _say it_.

 _I love you. You’re important to me, what do you think about that? You already knew. Of course you did_.

Scrapped. 

_No one means more to me than you do, you know?_

Sometimes, things are less simple than they first seem.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kei is so gay. i aspire to him 
> 
> also i cant believe this is almost over! one more day, one more day...
> 
> edit: freckledtadashi on tumblr made [wonderful art](http://freckledtadashi.tumblr.com/post/159615925413/please-go-and-read-this-beauty-i-cried) for this chapter, and i'd be lying if i said i haven't been staring at it for the last five hours....lol...... thank you so much !


	30. future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow so this... has been a journey. this was a really unique experience for me!! i had a lot of fun writing a little bit for this every day, and i'll miss it for sure. i'm done clogging up the tsukkiyama tag, though. hahah 
> 
> i hope that the fic was even just a little fun / enjoyable for you guys, but regardless, thanks for reading to the end! <3  
> and also thanks for all the kudos and lovely comments that i've gotten up to this point, that all means so much to me. thanks for the continued support <3 <3

Kei’s never really been one for risks. He examines, he calculates, and then finally he executes what he’s sure will succeed. But still—despite all the sirens in his head that tell him to _wait_ , to think about this, to ignore the impulse—as he’s walking home one night and Yamaguchi’s eyes glow a soft caramel under the streetlamp, Kei slides his hand out of Yamaguchi’s and hooks it under Yamaguchi’s jaw to pull him forward, and Kei kisses him.

Yamaguchi hesitates to kiss back, but surely just out of shock, as he sinks into it soon thereafter. Kissing Yamaguchi is as soft as all his genuine smiles and all his warm gazes and all of his passionate words. Kissing him is quite frankly something Kei should have done a long time ago.

They part after too short of a time, but it _had_ been an impulse, and they _are_ in public, although no one’s around, not that they can see. Yamaguchi still seems to have a mind about him, though—which is more than Kei can say, all flustered and enveloped in the warmth that comes with his proximity to Yamaguchi—so he gently pushes Kei away from him, one of his smiles pulling at his freshly kissed lips.

Kei stares at him, lips parted and breath coming out slow. Yamaguchi stares back, but before hardly a moment passes, he breaks into a fit of giggles. Kei can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out from his chest, either, so he doesn’t.

After they’ve both slightly calmed, albeit with faces red from both the laughter and the kissing—the _kissing_ , Kei can hardly believe it—Kei shakes his head fondly.

“I love you,” he says, smiling and blushing all the same.

“I know. I _know_ , Tsukki,” Yamaguchi replies, lifting up a hand to touch a ringlet of Kei’s hair that sticks out just in front of his ear. “And I love you, too. But you know that already, don’t you?”

“I just had to tell you,” Kei says regardless, just barely leaning into Yamaguchi’s touch.

“I know.”

Yamaguchi’s smiling, and while this may not have been well planned or calculated, Kei can’t bring himself to care.

“Hey,” Kei speaks after a quiet moment, reaching up to Yamaguchi’s hand and intertwining Yamaguchi’s pinky with his own, “To the future?”

Yamaguchi’s grin widens, his grip on Kei’s pinky tightens, and he leans forward to plant a kiss on Kei’s cheek.

“To the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


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